


"I just thought maybe we could find ways to fall apart"

by the_milky_way



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hallucinations, M/M, Sam/Dean Minibang 2012, hurt!Dean, lj challenge, re-post, season 7, season 8 AU, worried!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-17
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 07:08:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/846738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_milky_way/pseuds/the_milky_way
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: This was supposed to be a simple cursed object case. Locate, retrieve, and lock up, you know.<br/>Since they are the Winchesters, things are never simple, though.<br/>With flashbacks of a past that never happened, a frighteningly clueless brother and time missing from his memory, Dean’s pretty sure he’s losing his grasp on reality.<br/>Wouldn’t be the first time, only his delusions never before made him wish they were true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"I just thought maybe we could find ways to fall apart"

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the 2012 Sam/Dean Minibang at [samdean_otp](http://samdean-otp.livejournal.com/) and also fulfills the prompts of "sunrise", "sunset", "twilight", "eclipse" and "equinox" on my [Dean Winchester: A Year to Survive](http://icebear-cw.livejournal.com/34017.html#cutid1) table.
> 
> The title is graciously taken from Fun's "We are young"
> 
> **Thank you** so much **A**. for the beta services and suggestions.
> 
> Here's [amber1960](http://amber1960.livejournal.com/)'s Art for this story. [**Art Masterpost**](http://amber1960.livejournal.com/114426.html).  
>  It's seriously awesome. Thanks so much for choosing my story and creating art for it.

**Sunrise**

The warning shout comes too late, obviously. 

As Dean’s now staring down at his chest, where the locket has attached itself to his skin. It doesn’t even hurt. At least not yet.  
It might be the shock of things going out of hand so quickly, so disastrously or something’s up with that locket. Well, obviously, something **is** up with this thing, only Dean thinks it might be even more fucked up than they originally thought.

There are thin red lines already spreading out under his skin. Spiderwebs making their way across his chest and he gasps a little, starts pawing at the golden surface of the locket and thinks that panicking might actually be a solution right now.

“Dean?”

It says a lot when Sam’s voice isn’t frantic with worry and panic but rather calm and carefully blank. 

Dean refuses to look up, doesn’t want to actually see the things he’s feeling right now reflected in Sam’s eyes. He’s got enough to deal with and a silently freaking out brother isn’t his priority, even though that thought makes him cringe. Because Sam’s always his priority.

“Stay back, Sam,” Dean’s surprised how calm he sounds. No quiver, now choked up words, just his usual voice, collected and controlled. 

The whimper is Sam’s and for second Dean thinks Sam’s been hurt as well, thinks that there maybe was another piece of rogue jewelry that is now embedded into Sam’s skin.  
Dean’s head snaps up at that, fast and jerky movement that makes him nauseous for some reason. But Sam’s just standing there, unhurt and in the same place he has been since the flashing stopped, the smoke settled – and really how clichéd is that anyway? – everything was tinged in uncomfortable silence. 

Sam’s just standing there, tall, seemingly strong but oh so silent. Staring at Dean’s chest and not a single emotion present in his face and it unsettles something within Dean.

Then there’s fear in Sam’s eyes and a look Dean just knows too well. A look that makes Dean speechless, swallow dryly and stare back at Sam. This seemingly his still life and Dean’s stopped pretending he has any kind of control over it years ago.

Sam moves then, just a small, almost aborted step towards Dean. Dean can see the fear more clearly now, realizes it’s more a mixture of uncertainty, fear and confusing. That makes it so much worse, though.  
Sam seems so unsure of what to do suddenly, that it hurts to watch. 

Sam’s usually the strong one these days, after everything. It’s a miracle really, that they’re still halfway sane. After Sam’s bout of ‘wanting a normal life again’ and Dean’s escape from purgatory it really is a wonder they are functioning on some levels that come close to normal. 

So Sam’s really not supposed to be paralyzed by fear.

They’re beyond that, have been for years.

Something is different this time though.

Sam takes another step, slow and jerky, almost as if he isn’t in control of his body.

“Stay back, Sammy.” Said with more force, more command this time and Sam stops dead. Freezes even. It would be funny how now is the moment Sam decides to listen, to obey but it’s frightening as hell and Dean swallows bile.

Dean twitches, just slightly but it seems to set something loose within Sam. His brother gasps and his eyes are fixed on Dean’s chest again, a little vacant but focused now at least.

Dean can’t help it, can’t suppress the urge to look down at his chest again. His shoulders ache and he realizes how tense he stands there, how it’s almost impossible to move a single muscle right then.  
The red lines under his skin, vanish into his open shirt. The one he ripped away the second he felt the locket touch his skin. The fabric where the locket touched it has been burned away and Dean doesn’t even want to think about the reasons for that.

His entire chest is covered in spiderwebs now, red and dark, angry and sick looking. 

Dean can’t see much else in the dim light of the room. It’s a basement after all, in an abandoned house, go figure. He almost snorts at the clichéd absurdity but snaps his eyes back up when Sam’s suddenly in front of him. 

Hand stretched out, wanting to touch and Dean can only so much as curse and damn Sam under his breath before everything goes dark around him.

The sun’s not yet up but dawn’s on the verge of breaking through the night.

The room is painted in dark blues intercepted by the orange from the streetlight outside. It’s a strange sight to wake up to and for a second Dean isn’t sure he’s really awake. Everything is fuzzy, feels strange and disturbingly out of alignment.

He’s not even sure where he knows that word from but it feels right describing everything he’s experiencing right now.

Last images of a dream still linger at the edge of his mind, making it hard to come back to full consciousness. The sheets are soft under his cheek, smell of detergent and soap and a little bit of sweat, too. He can’t really remember the dream, but it was cold, scary even, a dark room filled with things one shouldn’t be able to see.

It fades so fast that Dean’s not even sure he really dreamed.

Sunrise is an hour, maybe two, away and he just wants to fall back asleep. He likes sleep, wishes he’d get more of it and tries to indulge as often as he can.  
Something feels off though, telling him not to indulge and slide away into sleep again.

His brain is slower to catch up, muddled in confusion and the last remains of sleep. Dean doesn’t remember when he went to bed last night, doesn’t think he even did.  
And then it sort of clicks.

This is not the motel room he’s supposed to be in. 

It’s not even the room he was dreaming about just minutes ago. This is a house he’s tried so hard to forget about, a room he never wanted to be reminded off again, as it stands for everything Dean’s desperately trying not to acknowledge.

This room is in the past and even though he can’t really make out much, Dean knows the rickety dresser and the smell of sandalwood from the damned candles Sam insisted on burning ever night that summer. That summer, almost 15 years ago.

Dean bolts upright, lungs tight with pain and chest heaving.

“Dean?”

Sammy. 

Of course, Sammy would be there. It’s Dean’s hallucination after all. And that’s what it is, can only be. A hallucination. There’s no way he’s really here. 

But it feels so damn real. Frighteningly so.

Dean blinks into the dim light, not sure where Sam exactly is but aware of him anyway. Things are coming back to him, slowly and not all that welcome. The locket embedded in his chest, Sam’s too calm voice in his ear, the world going dark.

It must be a huge fucking joke, like the universe showing Dean the finger again. As usual.

“Dean? You okay?” The mumbled words are too close to his ear and he barely refrains from jumping, focusing instead on the dresser close by, the one he knows only holds Sam’s school books and a t-shirt. Everything else is already or still packed in their bags.

He doesn’t know what date it is, if it’s the beginning of **that** summer or if they are at the end of it. If it’s the latter Dean’s not looking forward to reliving it all over again.

“Dean?” And now Sam sounds scared, which, even in a hallucination, isn’t what Dean wants. He’s been silent for too long. Just saying words into the room feels wrong for some reasons, so he turns, and almost falls out of the bed.

Dean’s not proud of it but he flails, just a little but enough to jostle the entire bed.

“The hell?”

Sam’s blinking at him from the pillow, Dean’s pillow, in Dean’s bed. He looks confused and if Dean’s honest, a little hurt as well.

“Sam? Aren’t you a little old to sneak into my bed?” Dean’s not sure where it’s coming from but his own confusion sounds cold and angry within the words leaving his lips. Dean didn’t expect to sound like this. The way Sam’s eyes grow wide he didn’t either.

“I… I didn’t. You said… it was okay.” But Sam’s already moving, shuffling backwards under the cover, making to leave the bed. Something clenches in Dean’s chest at the sight of his little brother - scared eyes not daring to look at Dean and a deep frown edged into his face.

Before Sam actually leaves the safety of the bed, Dean reaches out, gently and not too fast. For some reason he thinks moving too fast will have the opposite effect of what he wants. And he doesn’t want Sam to leave the way he’s looking right now.

And suddenly Dean knows, remembers this night. 

The night before they left yet another town, another school behind. It had been just another night before leaving.

Only, that this one had been somewhat significant among all those others and so very different. 

They’d made friends here. 

Both of them even, not just Sam. Had spent longer here than anywhere else before, almost two years. This place had meant home in some many ways that even Dean was furious at Dad uprooting them from one day to the other.

It had been the first time ever that Dean seriously thought about talking to Dad about staying. He still remembers trying to talking himself into it and failing, mostly because of Dad’s well-argued reasons and him know he’d follow anyway. 

Sure, there’d been hunting trips throughout their time there, all through summer long but they had always come back to this small town close to the border to Texas. They had stayed so long that Dean started to think about getting a job after school, making connections, maybe even trying for some classes at the community college.

It never matter in the end but just the prospect of _maybe_ had been enough back then.

That night, before they left, had been hot and not all letting on that summer was ending. 

When Dean thinks back this night might even have been the start of losing Sam to the dream of a ‘normal’ life. The fight with Dad that evening, the first big one, would always be burned into his memory. The way he felt helpless, standing there watching, cursing and wishing the shouting would stop.

Then the slap and Dean stepping towards Dad, the one line crossed that should have never been there in the first place – Dean would always blame himself for letting it happen.  
Dad had vanished for the night, probably seeking forgiveness in a whiskey glass. Dean never asked. 

And Sam – well Sam had been furious, so furious that he punched a hole into the wall of their room and left in a rush to hide at one of his friend’s places. Dean had waited, a few hours to let Sam calm down and then went and got Sam in the middle of the night. He almost dragged Sam to the Impala, one arm clutched tightly and shut every comment or bitching up with just one glare.

Dean remembers this, remembers how Sam had yelled at him in the car on the way home, had hugged him when they were back in their room and asked if he could sleep with Dean.  
Dean also remembers saying ‘No’ so very clearly that he knows this here, right now is not real. 

Dean remembers how Sam had been cold, silent and stony for the next month and a half and how much it had hurt. 

Back then Dean had felt it was the right thing to do.

But this right now, this feels just as real as the things Dean so clearly remembers. 

His hand on Sam’s soft skin, Sam’s hazel eyes red rimmed, so much that it’s visible in the pre-dawn light, Sam’s breath fawning over Dean’s cheek in puffs. It all feels so very real and Dean’s not sure it isn’t.  
He doesn’t know what compels him to do what he does next but something deep inside of him suddenly wishes he’d done that all those years ago. Dean sighs, pulls Sam close against his chest and lets his brother relax against his body.

“Sorry, Sammy. Just a bad dream. Go back to sleep.”

Sam stays quiet, but moves even closer, snuffles a little and finally settles in. Dean feels the tears against his neck, just knows that’s what Sam had needed that night. The comfort, the knowledge that Dean would be there for him. 

And Dean had refused him that.

The deep ache that has been buried ever since flares up again, has Dean pulling Sam closer even and whishing even more that this was real.  
The last thought that crosses Dean’s mind feels like a revelation almost. 

Thinks would have been so very different if he’d just been there for Sam that night instead of being stubborn and afraid and hurt.

The knowledge that this was the first missed chance of many lets the guilt settle in heavily.

The things go dark again.

**Twilight**

 

“Yes… of course… No, I get it. Thanks for the help though. Yes, I’ll call if things change. Thanks.” Sam huffs in frustration, almost snort with it and Dean smirks. It’s so Sam that it’s familiar.

And then Dean blinks.

Sam’s pacing the room, a room Dean has never seen before. There are take-out bags strewn over the table, obviously empty, food gone for a while now.  
Dean doesn’t know how he got here or how long they’ve been here. He thinks they’ve been here a while by the looks of it.

The last thing he remembers is Sam at 14, in his bed, looking scared and asking for comfort.

What worries Dean even more than his apparently scrambled brain is the fact that Sam’s acting as if nothing is going on. He’s rambling, talking at Dean as if they’ve been holding this conversation for hours now.  
Dean fears it might actually be the case.

He’s pretty sure Sam would realize it if Dean’s been gone for however long. So Dean has to have been here all along, interacting, talking, living alongside Sam without having any kind of memory about it.  
Dean blinks at the laptop screen in front of him. It shows the locket he knows is still firmly attached to his skin. He feels it slowly pulsating in his chest. And that’s new, it didn’t pulsate before and he wants to tell Sam, wants to get up and shake Sam for not realizing what’s going on.

But he can’t. He literally can’t move, not a single muscle obeys and his mouth stays firmly closed. 

Something keeps him mute, tongue sticking to his gums, teeth grinding against teeth and throat locking up at the thought of uttering one single word about it all to Sam. Panic is welling up inside of him and he blinks rapidly, tries to focus on Sam to starve the overwhelming feel of losing his mind.

Watching Sam somehow helps a little.

Sam, who looks flushed, sweaty in ways Dean hasn’t seen in a while. Dark circles under his brother’s eyes show how sleep is not an option… again. The contrast between hallucination!Sam and this one is so stark that Dean wonders if this is even his brother anymore. Just for split second, but it’s enough to make his head hurt and his heart skip a beat.

What is real?

This thought is doing a loop in his mind.

Dean watches Sam for a few minutes, takes the chance he never really has anymore. Just watches, catalogues the way Sam moves, stiffly, as if he’s hurting and Dean will ask him about that as soon as he is able to.

Sam’s long legs eat up ground and he’s through the room in three long strides, turns on his heels and takes the same path back, never wearing, never leaving it. That’s Sam, always following what he thinks is the right path for him.

But Sam looks haunted now. Years of fate using them as play balls have been leaving traces even Dean can’t talk away anymore. Sam looks older then he should.

And Sam at 14 flashes in through Dean’s mind again.

Why Dean had that flashback, to this time in their past is sort of beyond him. But not really. Deep down Dean knows and it makes him wonder what that thing in his chest is causing, what it will do to him.

“…and we should check the library again. I know this book is there and I’ll be damned if that bitch is preventing me from finding out what the hell is going on here,” Sam has been getting louder by the second, pacing faster through the room, making Dean dizzy.

There’s only one light on, near the bed, the rest of the room is cast into the glow of the laptop on the table. It’s like the room’s tinged in twilight, not enough light and not dark enough either. It’s weird and Sam’s moving through it like he belongs to neither light nor darkness. 

Sam seems unreal. Almost ethereal with a glow around him, dark though, nothing good or happy about it.

The spike of fear running through his chest makes Dean gasps, surprised and unsure of what’s going on anymore. His lungs are tight again, just like when he woke up in this flashback that never happened.  
Sam is in front of him not a second later, kneeling, grasping Dean’s arms and speaking in low tones. 

At first Dean only sees Sam’s lips moving, concern edged into his brother’s face but then the words reach his ears and he starts to breathe slowly, more controlled again.  
His hand flies to his chest, feels the metal, no, gold of the locket under his t-shirt and groans.

“Dammit Dean, answer me. Does it hurt?”

“No.”

It’s all he can say right now, his vision is getting blurry again and he feels Sam’s arms come around him when he slumps forward in his chair. It should be embarrassing how easy it is for Sam to pick him up but Dean’s too busy trying not to panic to care much about it.

Darkness claims him when Sam is lowering him down on the bed.

“You know what? Fuck you, Dad.”

The door slams and the silence that follows is so final, so damn loud that Dean flinches on instinct. 

It takes a second to clear his vision and to look around, but he knows where he is. He knows when, too. The second time around it seems easier to adjust and Dean doesn’t want to think about it, fears where those thoughts might lead him.

“Seriously? Gotta be fucking kidding me,” he mumbles and turns around to stare at his Dad, frozen to stone and anger twitching all over his face. Yeah, Dean had hoped not to see this particular sight again.

Disorientation fades quickly this time and Dean wonders if he’s getting used to it. The spike of fear is back again, only now there’s no locket in his chest and he’s 22, watching his brother getting ready to leave.  
For a second there Dean was tempted to believe that the other flashback, different as it had been from reality, would have changed things somewhat. Why he thought that, well Dean’s not really sure. But then his brain seems to be taking some sort of vacation anyway.

Dad brushes past him and Dean fights hard to hold in the urge to reach out and hug the man. It’s hard to see him like this, alive, younger and strong. He and Sam have been living with the fact that Dad’s gone for years now, doesn’t mean it’s been easy.

The backdoor slams, just as hard as that front door had and Dean sighs. 

He knows this. 

There’s grumbled piece of paper in his hand and Dean sighs again. Stanford. The letter he confronted Sam about just as Dad came home from work. It wasn’t his smartest moment but he’d been so damn furious that he couldn’t help it.

Dean takes a look around, the kitchen is as he remembers it, sun flooded, dusty and on the small side. There’s Sam plate of half eaten cereal, his own unfinished cup of coffee and Dad’s toast on the table. Today’s newspaper is lying here, innocently, unread and crumbled from where Dad has smashed his fist on the table and Dean has to look away.

It hurts just as much as it did back then and he doesn’t know why he needs to go through this all over again.

His legs are moving before he knows it, out the front door not the back door like last time. He folds the letter neatly and slides it into his jean’s pocket. He knows where Sam is, has found him in that place last time, too, hours later, in the middle of the night.

This time, Dean just has to follow Sam immediately. Something’s pushing him, making him move and get into the car without Dean really thinking about it. The sun’s up and hot already, burning on his skin and making him curse.

Twenty minutes later he is driving down a bumpy back road he only found by accident the last time he looked for Sam here. Tires are kicking up dust and gravel, tinting everything in this weird kind of twilight where the sun’s out but you feel like it’s getting darker by the second.

The pond is at the edge of town, overgrown and hidden away, private land no one knows who owns and a place for the kids to spend endless summer days. Dean’s been there a couple of times but only ever to get Sam and they always took the long, scenic route back to town.

Now, though, Dean’s in a hurry, knows time’s important.

When he gets there, he knows it’s the right decision. Sam is leaning against the old oak tree right by the pond, hands clenched into fists and eyes closed and face drawn so tight that Dean just knows his brother will have a migraine tonight.

Sam’s eyes snap open when he hears the Impala inching close and frowns, looks a little unsure about what to do now, confused at how Dean found him so fast. Dean almost grins, wonders if he should tell Sam how much of an unfair advantage he has. 

But then the whole situation catches up with him and Dean swallows hard. This isn’t real. He’s already gone through it and it’s in the past. There are no second chances, no matter what this is about. Only, Dean’s had so many chances in his life that it’s ridiculous to deny even the thought of it.

He gets out of the car before the dust has even settled. Sam moves to get up but abandons the motion when Dean just flops down next to him. There’s a slight breeze in the shadow and the pond actually smells like fresh water instead of the tepid green mud it used to be back then.

The wind slides over his skin in a surreal way and Dean’s almost prepared to be thrown back into reality. Whichever of these scenarios counts as reality. Dean’s not sure anymore.

“Here to yell at me some more,” Sam grinds out, and if Dean didn’t know his brother he’d snap right back, in the same tone even. But Dean knows Sam, better now than back then, has heard his tones and voices and emotions for almost 30 years now. 

So he just leans back against the bark of the tree and shakes his head.

“Naw. Just wanted to see how you are.”

There’s silence for a while, surprised silence Dean thinks and almost lets the smile on his lips show. It’s rare now that he can surprise Sam, has been rare back then as well. And Dean doesn’t know if it can be attributed to Sam’s quick mind or his own predictability. It’s not like he cares right now anyway.

“Oh…” and it hurts to hear that surprise reflected in Sam’s voice.

“Sammy…,” Dean sighs, resigned now and blinks his eyes open to watch his brother. “I… You really wanna go, huh?” 

Sam nods, eyes on his shoes, hands clenched tightly into the hem of his shirt, Dean’s shirt Dean notices with some amusement and wonders if it has been the same back then – the first time they did this. But then, it had been dark and he had been way too angry, too worried about Sam to focus on such small things.

“Stanford. That’s… cool. Good school.”

Sam snorts at the words and Dean knows how stupid they sound. He shakes his head, grins when Sam looks at him from under his bangs and nudges his brother with his shoulder.

“I’ll drive you.”

The hitch in Sam breath is audible in the silence that follows Dean’s words. He hadn’t said them back then, only drove Sam to the bus station and never looked back. 

“All the way?”

Dean hadn’t meant that, only, he really did. All the way to Stanford.

“Like a road trip, Sammy.”

“Yeah…,” Sam snorts again. “Like we haven’t been doing that for most of our lives.”

It’s true. So damn true that Dean hates it for a second. But then, this feels different somehow and he knows that Sam feels it, too, the way his brother is looking at him now.  
“Okay. Yeah, a road trip.”

They sit there for a while, watch the mosquitoes dance over the water and listen to the birds around them. The silence isn’t uncomfortable and Dean thinks he hasn’t had that with Sam in years, wonders when they lost it, and where along the way.

“What about Dad?” Sam’s words are low, almost not there and Dean thinks Sam doesn’t really want an answer.

“Let me deal with it.”

This pull that makes Dean move has been there back then as well, the very same pull that he ignored and let Sam sit there alone, for hours. Not this time though.

This time, Dean just moves, ignores the voice in his head telling that this isn’t supposed to happen. This isn’t real anyway. Dean decides he can do what he damn well wants and maybe even needs, if only just a little. So he moves and pulls Sam close, arm around his shoulders and snorting at the squeak Sam can’t suppress.

Sam’s head comes to rest on his shoulder, tugged beneath Dean’s chin. Sam’s arm slowly snakes around Dean’s waist and they end up tangled closer together than they have in years. Dean allows it to happen the way he never did in reality.

It’s his mind he’s in and he thinks indulging here won’t hurt anybody but himself. It feels right. It feels like the thing he should have done back then if he hadn’t been too angry, too scared and too caught up in his own misery.

When Sam tilts his head just so, Dean doesn’t stop, leans down and closes his eyes.

The expected touch never comes.

++++

 

**Equinox**

“God-fucking-dammit…” It’s out of his mouth before he can stop himself.

Sam’s so startled that he drops the two coffee cups and remains frozen in the motel room door, staring at Dean in a way that makes Dean flinch. Also, Dean can’t look Sam in the eyes.  
Not right now. Maybe not ever again.

Because, what the hell?

He’s going crazy, dreaming up things that never happened and sure as hell will never happen. He has made sure of it for years now and he’ll die trying to make sure for the rest of his life.

“Dean?”

He looks up at Sam’s voice, sounding scared and helpless in ways it hasn’t in years. Dean wants to curse himself for causing it, wants to get the image of almost going **there** out of his head so that he can look at his brother properly again.

It takes him longer than he likes and when he does look up at Sam he wishes he hadn’t.

Sam has already thrown away the dropped cups, grabbed some paper towels to soak coffee up from the already hopelessly soiled carpet and is now watching Dean with wary eyes and something that comes close to hope. 

Dean raises his eyebrows.

Sam shrugs then and smiles a little sheepishly.

“Just… was surprised to hear your voice. Has been a while.” Sam shrugs again and it’s such a foreign gesture on his brother’s broad shoulders that Dean can’t stop staring. Sammy pressed close to him under the oak tree, tilting his head flashes across his mind and Dean coughs, embarrassed and not really sure what’s happening.  
Sam’s there in an instant, on his knees in front of Dean. 

“The locket? Does it hurt again?”

Dean shakes his head no, can’t bring his mouth to work. It’s like the words get stuck in his throat. He wants to ask Sam what’s going on, why he’s losing time, dreaming up things that never happened and why Sam doesn’t realize when Dean vanishes into dreamland.

“So back not being able to talk when I’m around,” Sam nods and gets up to sit on the bed across from where Dean’s sitting. It’s a different motel room and Dean wonders how many days it’s been this time.

Some of his confusion must be visible on his face because Sam frowns, narrows his eyes and then just stares. Dean can see the exact moment the light bulb flashes on and hopes he’ll get at least some answers.

“Damn. Okay, well guess you were gone again. I never know when you are, since you can’t say a word about it. It’s the locket. Guess that’s blatantly obvious, as it’s still embedded in your chest and we still have no idea how to get it out,” Sam says matter-of-factly and sounds so damn resigned that Dean wonders what Sam’s going through when Dean’s off reliving a past that never happened.

“Okay, so I’ll tell the story again. Hopefully, this time you are around to hear it. The locket… Let’s just say it’s cursed to fulfill people’s heart’s desires. Only, it wasn’t meant to attach like it did with you. Or not for so long anyway. Guess, it has to dig deep to find your heart’s desire, huh?”

Dean feels himself blush, curses his body for being so damn traitorous and for reacting the way it does. He’s not a blushing virgin, far from it. Right now, he feels more like a sick pervert and would prefer if Sam wasn’t looking at him like he’s a damn lab rat.

“The book I found and some sources say it’s supposed to detach itself during an equinox. Either spring or fall. We’re kinda far from either though, so the other thing makes more sense. When the carrier, in this case you, finds his or her heart’s desire and can go after it the curse is lifted.”

Dean’s still not sure how that’s supposed to work out. There’s nothing he actually wants this bad. Only, every flashback kind of pointed directly at it and he’s this close to throwing his hands up and admitting defeat to his perverted mind. Just to stop this whole craziness.

He doesn’t feel ready yet.

“Also, it forbids the bearer to speak about it or you know, write about it even. That’s why you’ve gone mute the last two weeks,” Sam shrugs again and suddenly Dean knows why he’s doing it. Sam’s hiding how helpless he feels, how little he knows and how much he blames himself for not preventing them from getting into this situation.

Also, two weeks? Seriously?

“As far as I understood it, the curse sends the mind off to another plane. A dream maybe? The body remains behind, functioning. Mute. I never know if you are there or not. Don’t even know if you are there now. Despite being silent, you’re acting the same as always,” Sam says, never looking at Dean fully. Like he’s embarrassed.

It helps Dean with his own issue of not really being able to look Sam in the eye, it also makes him wonder what has been going on during the times he checked out.  
The urge to touch is back with a force. Stronger than it was during the latest flashback.

Dean just acts, reaches out and curls his fingers around Sam’s wrist. It’s just a touch, simple and normal.  
It sends currents through Dean and has Sam gasp out loud.

This time the darkness is not unexpected.

Tears are running down his face and Dean’s so stunned that the arms around his waist don’t really register, neither does the chin on his shoulder.

“Want me to take over?” Sam’s words in his ear make him shiver.

“Huh?”

“The onions, Dean. You’re crying your eyes out and I really don’t want you to cut off your fingers,” Sam laughs and tightens his hold Dean for a second, then lets go and steps back. Dean misses the closeness instantly.

This never happened. 

They’ve never been this domestic, in any reality. 

His heart’s desire. 

Dean almost snorts because there’s no such thing. Not for him and certainly not in a scenario where he’s playing house with Sam.

“Shut up, “Dean shoots back and lets the grin slip free when Sam laughs, loud and carefree. It’s such a novel sound that Dean looks. Stares even and takes it all in.

Sam looks so young but not as young as he did during the last flashback. Dean reels a little trying to figure out at which point of their lives this is happening and how this fits into the scheme of things.  
“Alright, cry your eyes out Dean. When you lose a finger, don’t come to me though.”

“You’re a cruel man, Sam Winchester.”

The banter feels natural, like he just has to say the things he says, like they’ve been doing it for years instead of just a few minutes. Dean sniffles and tries to look through his tears down at the cutting board. It’s like the onions are mocking him.

Then he’s hip checked out of the way and laughs when Sam makes short process with the half cut onions. There’s a pan on the stove and eggs in a bowl, already liquefied. So, breakfast as it seems. Bacon’s out as well.

“Go, wash your eyes out,” Sam says with another laugh and then goes back to making breakfast.

Dean wanders off; through an apartment he doesn’t know, a hallway he isn’t familiar with and looks around. It feels right to be here but then this apparently is his version of a heart’s desire and the locket is showing him what he wants. 

Only, this really can’t be it.

Dean’s never really wanted a ‘normal’ life. He’s seen it in the Djinn’s version and it wasn’t his way. 

He’s tried with Lisa and failed spectacularly. So yeah, not what he wants. He shuts up the voice that says it’s more about Sam than the way of life, because he’s not thinking about **that**.  
The apartment isn’t huge, two bedrooms, a kitchen, a bath with a bathtub and Dean grins, because he knows who chose this one. The bed in the master bedroom looks comfy, big and Dean just knows he had say in this. 

It’s perfectly clear that this is his and Sam’s apartment. Just the second bedroom being study kinda comes a shock.

There are pictures on the wall in the hallway and Dean stops to look at them when he comes out of the bathroom. He recognizes Jess instantly, but Sam and her don’t look a couple in this one, more like best friends. 

Dean’s chest tightens; an ache that has been there, in the background, for years is slowly making its way to the forefront. Dean doesn’t like that at all. He’s good at burying things, denial is something he can really live with. His mind showing him things in such unsubtle ways makes him feel sick.

He looks at more pictures, of himself and Sam, the Impala and Dad. Hunting trips as it seems, nature and fishing. One more of Dad leaning against his truck and that’s how Dean knows this isn’t real. Dad would have never allowed it, would have skinned Dean alive if he ever knew that Dean looked wrong at his little brother just once in his life.

An exorcism is more likely to happen than Dad ever accepting his sons living together with just one bedroom between them.

“Heard anything from Dad?” Sam’s there suddenly, beside him and looking at the same photo Dean has been staring at for a while now. He has a feeling when this is and it doesn’t bode well for their lives together. He’s not sure but the way Sam looks at him the dreams about the fire are already happening.

“No.” And it’s the truth, because Dean hasn’t.

Sam nods then, pulls himself up to his full height and Dean knows what’s going to happen now, here in this bright hallway full of pastel colors and photos that were never taken.  
“It’s hunting time then, I guess.”

“What about your interview?” Dean feels like it’s the right thing to say, remembers this about Sam when he came and got him, pulled him away from Stanford and the life he’d so desperately been seeking.

Sam pulls him close then, closer than they’ve ever been before with both of them conscious. He wraps his arms around Dean’s waist and just looks at him for a second.

“Just ‘cause Dad doesn’t know I’m still in the loop doesn’t mean I don’t want to find him. I know he’s mad at me for pulling you away but he’s Dad. We know where he was last, you got the voicemail, his journal. We can go and look for him. It’s not that far and I can be back here by Monday.” 

Sam’s lips are soft against his and Dean gasps. Sam is kissing him and it’s the one thing Dean never thought would happen, never wanted it to happen and had still been dreaming about for years. He has to give it to his mind, coming up with such clarity and making it feel real is a masterpiece

Also having the fallout between Dad and Sam still be real and Dad not knowing, well it makes Dean cringe inwardly and pull Sam closer at the same time. If this is the only time he’s only ever getting to do this he’ll enjoy it. Come hell or purgatory… again. 

“We’re going on a hunting trip then?” Sam says against his lips and Dean has to smile. It tickles, the vibrations of Sam’s words feel strange on his skin and so very real at the same time.

“Seems like it. And on Halloween even.”

“Go figure.” Sam grins, dips down and pulls Dean into a deeper kiss, faster this time but still held back and almost chaste. 

Dean wonders when he became one for chick flick moments, not even thinking about mocking them.

**Eclipse**

The sun’s hot against his skin when he wakes up. 

His lips are tingling and he smiles at the feeling of lips against his. Then his head bumps against the window when the car takes a pothole too fast and Dean wants to curse out loud. His tongue sticks against his teeth all over again and he’s not where he was a second ago. He doesn’t want to open his eyes, doesn’t want to face this reality because he felt good where he’d been. Too good even.

Dean felt content, happy even and his actual life has been so far from any of those feelings lately that he starts to wish those hallucinations to be real. 

The sound of the engine, the movement of the car, the sun on his skin, all of it is making it clear that he’s not where he wants to be. Opening his eyes, means facing the fact that he’s so far out of his depth that he’s not sure what’s real anymore.

Sam’s there, next to him, driving his car. And Dean just can’t bring himself to open is eyes or look at Sam.

“You know, I have no idea how often we’ve driven down this road. Must have been a hundred times at least.” Sam’s voice is shot to hell, deep and scratchy. Like he’s been screaming or crying or talking for way too long.

Dean doesn’t jump at the sound of it, though, remains silent and still. But then he doesn’t think he can move at all, feels sluggish, limps heavy like lead. It’s weird how he knows he’s back in reality but can’t seem to be able to act in it. 

Reality feels unreal. It’s kind of ironic

“I know nothing’s there anymore. But… I don’t really know where else to go. You know, maybe some of Bobby’s things are still around.”

The rustling of fabric indicates that Sam’s shrugging. He sounds bland now, void of all emotion, as if he doesn’t have any left. Dean’s scared suddenly, not for himself but for Sam. Sam sounding this way never means anything good.

“I just… just wish you’d come back, you know. I know you are there, in like one time out of ten. I know, but then I never really know. Do you know there’s an eclipse tonight? Moon eclipse even. Still too far from fall equinox though, so guess it won’t work anyway. Didn’t work the last time. Been talking to some people…,” there’s a choked of sound and Dean just knows, knows Sam’s clutching the steering wheel too hard and tries to swallow whatever emotion that suddenly crept up on him.

Dean wants to see him now.

So he opens his eyes.

Sam looks bad. Really bad. 

Cheeks hollow and the bags under his eyes are black. His skin looks pale, mouth drawn into a taut line and eyes narrowed so much that Dean isn’t able to see his pupils at all. Sam’s hair is even longer, missing a cut altogether and maybe even a few washes.

The white t-shirt is hanging loosely on his frame and Dean can’t remember the last time Sam looked this gangly or haggard. It sends a current of shock and fear and anger through. Anger because how can Sam let this happen, anger at how he’s not there to take care of Sam. Fear of what will have happened to Sam the next time Dean wakes up.

“They said I should think about… about the future. Can’t drive you through the country and hunt when you aren’t even there anymore. Doc’s say it’s catatonia. Comes close, I think. Don’t know how often I’ve told you that.”

Sam’s lips move and Dean hears the words but it’s like Sam’s talking to a ghost. Not once does he glance at Dean or reach out to touch. It’s like Sam can’t stand the sight, the way Dean is. There’s pain etched into Sam’s features, so much of it that Dean thinks this time Sam’s broken for real.

“Don’t wanna park you in some sanatorium. Never. Just, I need to find a place to settle down, keep you safe and I don’t really know how to do this, with the things still going on around us.”

Sam rubs a hand through his hair, grimaces, looks down for a second and then just straight ahead. If Dean could see auras, would even believe in them, he’d say Sam’s as black as the night the way he is looking. He can almost taste the sadness, the despair pouring of from his brother and Dean struggles to say something.

Yes, he wants to go back to this peaceful world, where he suddenly has what he’s never allowed himself to want, where he can have it and not rot in hell for it. Yeah, he wants to live a life where he doesn’t have to fear to constantly land in hell or die or lose Sam one more time. 

But it all doesn’t really matter if it isn’t real.

“I don’t know how to save you, Dean. I have no clue at all. Months now and still no clue. This thing has dragged you under and you aren’t coming back anymore. I don’t know where you are but I hope it’s worth it. I really do.”

That’s when Sam looks at him, eyes going comically wide and the car swerves off the road, Sam cursing wildly and Dean feels the smirk on his lips.

“Oh my fucking God. Hell, Dean…,” Sam almost shouts and brakes so hard that Dean flinches when his head hits the passenger side window. He feels even more sluggish, can barely move his hand and knows he’s been gone too long this time.

“Sorry... God, sorry,” Sam is rambling, parking the car and moving around, rearranging Dean’s head so that he’s resting against his leather jacket instead of the glass.

“Dean?”

Dean blinks, looks directly at Sam and smiles. Hopes his smile is physically there instead of just in his mind but then Sam grins, laughs out loud in relief and hugs him close.

“Knew you were in there somewhere. Please, Dean, stay this time. Please. I need you here with me. I need you. Fuck Dean, please.”

Of course the world goes black just then.

Dean knows the room, hates it with a vengeance and had hoped to never see it again.

Bobby’s panic room holds so many bad memories that Dean can’t figure why he landed here and how he can make anything that happened in it better.

Sam’s on the cot, eyes moving rapidly behind closed lids and Dean knows when this is. Sam’s wall has just been taken down and Dean’s waiting for him to either wake up or go completely. He has been here for days, glaring at everyone trying to come inside, which was only Bobby anyway.

Sam just lies there, broken and looking older than he is.

Dean remembers berating himself for letting all this happen to Sam, for not being there completely. He wondered what he could have done differently, what that one thing was that tipped it all from bad to worse. He never found an answer.

“Dean?”

And really, it all comes back to this one word where Sam is concerned.

Tired eyes blink up at him and Dean knows, just knows it’s Sam in there. His Sam.

“Hey, Sammy. You came back.” 

It’s a stupid thing to say, really, but Dean can’t help it. Because Sam came back and that’s what counts.

“Couldn’t leave you alone. Never would.” And Sam sounds so sure that it hurts to look at him then. It’s true all over and Sam, with his soul back inside of him, is actually able to say it and to really mean it. Something Dean has never been able to, he always meant it but could never say it out loud.

“Remember the apartment in Stanford?”

Dean blinks, because this is kind out of the blue but he nods anyway, wants to know where this is going.

“I want something like this again. One day. You and me, a place. Just you know, maybe bigger,” Sam smiles slow and careful, like he thinks he might have just crossed a line he shouldn’t have. But he looks so damn earnest and hopeful that Dean just has to smile.

This is all so very surreal, not real but on the same hand feeling like something that could have happened, could have taken place. In another life, based on different decisions, other roads taken.  
Sam pulls himself up on elbows and watches Dean, eyes clear and steady.

“Yes?”

“Yeah, Sammy.” Dean doesn’t even need to think about it. It’d do it in a heartbeat if he could. But not here, not where it isn’t real. He wants Sam to be there with him and see it all, live it all. In reality.  
So when Sam leans close, kisses him slow and gentle, Dean can’t help but wish for it to be real.

The tuck at his chest feels weird, not really painful but not pleasant either. He gasps when the pull gets stronger and he is somehow being forced away from Sam. Then it hurts, when he hits the wall of the panic room and Sam’s screaming at him.

It hurts like hell and Dean can’t move, hands cramped close of his chest, red lines moving along under his skin, red tinting his vision and he chokes on his own breath. It’s hell and some more.  
Dean wishes for the darkness to claim him again but nothing happens, only more pain. 

His heart beats fast against his ribcage; like it is being pulled along with whatever it is that is tugging so forcefully. In the end it hurts so much that Dean smashes is head against the wall and almost crows triumphantly when he feels the darkness moving in.

He only hopes he’ll wake up in the world where he belongs.

**Sunset**

The grass sways gently in the breeze, casting shadows on the dusty driveway. The sun’s about to set and night is slowly moving in. It isn’t cold but not really all that warm either. 

Dean’s sitting on the steps of the porch; listens to life settling down for the night, watching the sun vanish on the horizon. It’s peaceful here and maybe a little boring as well. But he can live with it after everything. A little boredom hasn’t killed anyone yet.

The glass that is handed to him over his shoulder is sweating from the ice-cold sweet tea inside and Dean grins.

“Still some left?”

“Some? More like a gallon.”

“Nice to have neighbors that care so much,” Dean says, tone mocking, imitating Sam from this morning when he told Dean the news of a barbeque in their honor to welcome them in the community.

“Fuck off, you like being waited on.”

And Sam’s right about that. Dean loves being lazy from time to time and having neighbors that actually care but aren’t nosy is a nice contrast from everything he has seen in his life so far.

They’ve been for two months now, not really settled down but more or less having created a basis, which they come back to more often than not. It doesn’t feel like home. Not yet. But Dean feels like they’re close to getting that aspect settled soon as well. At least with the way Sam’s been working his ass off to paint, repair and setting up furniture.

Sam’s a little overprotective these days, doesn’t let Dean do anything that means bodily work above a certain level and Dean can’t really blame him. Not when he’s still feeling the after effects of that locket.  
He’s been rubbing that spot for a while now when he feels Sam’s hand closing over his, stopping any kind of movement. Dean’s heart skips, his breath hitches a little and he feels Sam’s rapid pulse against his skin.

“Still hurts?”

“No. Not really. Not anymore. It’s just weird.”

Sam nods and Dean feels it more than see it, the way Sam’s resting against his shoulder. 

Sam can’t stop touching Dean.

It has been like this ever since Dean came to in the car with Sam shouting at him, crying even and begging. It was a messy scene and it hurt like hell when the locket finally detached itself from Dean’s chest, leaving an ugly burn mark behind and Dean’s heart stopping for a second.

Minor heart attack the doctors had said and ordered Dean to take it easy for a while, to slowly build up his strengths and to not overdo it again. Until this day Dean’s not sure they believed the story about a car battery and Dean not being careful enough.

That one last time Dean woke up was just mere seconds after Sam begged him to stay. That one last time Dean went into that world, went and wished to have it all with Sam in reality was enough to break the curse.

And Sam being there. They aren’t really sure, just know that the research Sam did let him to a gypsy telling him to keep Dean close. Sam is still insisting that it might have been an oracle and every so often mentions the fact that one’s heart’s desire has to be close and available to be reached out for.

Ever since waking up and hugging the hell out of Sam, things have shifted, changed and realigned themselves into something Dean can’t define. The looks Sam sends him, not always caring and checking if he’s okay, but longing, too, as if Sam’s on the same page, always has been.

But Dean has a hard time believing it.

The locket is gone but maybe the curse is still there. Dean doesn’t know and it drives him crazy sometimes. This lack of knowledge, lack of reassurance that things are actually real.

And Sam being a little weird isn’t helping either. 

Sometimes Dean thinks Sam was too eager to settle down, find a place and give them both some rest. But then Dean remembers Sam saying all those things in the car when he thought Dean wasn’t there anymore and it makes sense in ways Dean never thought about.

This is Sam. Sammy, who always wanted a life that was closer to normal than to the actual ones they had. But over the years even Sam’s perspective, Sam’s wishes shifted and Dean’s starting to see that maybe, maybe they aren’t so far apart when it comes to this.

He has only vaguely told Sam what went on when he was gone. Never dared to dip deep enough and actually bare his soul. It’s not him, never will be but Dean thinks that one day he might tell Sam all about it. One day, when he can be sure that Sam won’t run and leave him behind when he realizes what Dean actually wished for.

Sam moves closer, tangles their hands together and Dean takes a deep breath. He’s sure _one day_ isn’t today but maybe today is a step closer to it.

“Sammy?”

“You’ve changed.”

Dean blinks into the red sky and takes a minute to find his words.

“Isn’t it the way of life? To change?”

“See? That’s what I mean. Usually, before…” Sam stops and looks at him. Before…. Means before the locket and Dean being a vegetable for some months. Yeah, he knows what Sam means.  
“Before, I would have made a sarcastic comment and let you off with a joke. You’d be pissed and would huff for some time before you’d start nagging again.”

Now Sam laughs, deeply. The sound vibrating against Dean’s side where Sam’s pressed close. He chuckles and shakes his head.

“Yeah, maybe I’ve changed. But I’ve been to some places that scared the hell outta me, Sammy.”

“That bad?”

“No. That good. I wanted to stay.”

Sam nods, as if he knows, as if he has figured that out a while ago. And knowing Sam, he actually did figure it out a while ago.

“When I knew what the curse was… I hoped. Hoped it wouldn’t take you to places you wanted to stay at. But then, you were gone, here but not really. I was alone all over again even though you were there. Talking, even in the beginning, about the most inane things. But then there was the silence and I feared… I thought, I’d lost you. Again. For good this time.”

Dean gets it, knows where Sam’s coming from but he still isn’t ready to tell it all. He’s not ready to follow the one wish he made in the other reality. The burning ache in his chest intensifies again and Dean rubs the spot, Sam’s hand pressed against his moving along.

“I just… Dean. The oracle was so very clear on the curse. She said it had to be the heart’s desire, fulfilled in dream and being able to be lived in reality. That the heart’s desire had to be close and open to it. I just… I don’t know what brought you back. And I know you don’t want to tell me but if it can be lived here. In reality, maybe…” Sam doesn’t go on, looks sheepish there and maybe a little embarrassed.  
It looks strange on him. He’s not 14 anymore and way stronger than he ever was. 

Sam looks good now, good again. Healthy, tanned from the work on the house and the food the neighbors keep on bringing them. He’s not sure he wants to hug Sam or hit him for coming up with the story of Dean being sick for a long time and only just recovering. But as far as cover stories go, this one’s a good one.

Covers their absences when on a hunt as well, with Dean needing therapy and all that.

But sitting there on the steps of the porch, close and touching in ways they’d never dared before Dean thinks it’s time to take a step and try if this can survive in reality. Sam seem to sense it somehow and Dean wonders if this thing, this tension between them had been there all along, buried under stronger feelings, anger, resentment, fear and numbness.

Their lives have been nothing but a roller coaster ride and they’ve managed most of it side by side. Dean thinks back to the flashbacks/dreams/hallucinations and realizes that it wasn’t just him and his mind but Sam’s closeness and desperation as well. 

Sam’s feelings have been in there. The hope that slowly grows within Dean is not unexpected nor unwelcome, it’s a strange feeling though. And Dean hopes he’s not imagining it all, because that would seriously suck. But maybe, just maybe he isn’t alone in this and this damn locket caught on to it in the end, faster than either Dean or Sam.

Sam breaks the silence once more and Dean smiles because Sam just can’t let things do once he’s focused on them.

“I just… I changed, too. With nothing but the shell of you around and all those thoughts. But… the locket detached and you looked at me… I just, sometimes I feel so hopelessly lost and then you look at me this way and I just want to…,” Sam stops again and doesn’t continue this 

Dean leans in, closer to Sam and almost laughs when his brother gets cross-eyed. He hasn’t felt like this in years, no pressure to save the world, no worries about losing Sam to something dark or other, no angels or demons sitting on their shoulders for now. Just them, together, on a path they’ve never taken before.

Dean hopes. Dean hopes for the first time in years that he’s taking the right step.

Sam’s lips are as soft as he remembers them but so much more real here. The surprised gasps and then the moan are what Dean wants to hear, what he has been waiting for. And then they are kissing for real, deep and slow, just testing and tasting.

“Okay?” Dean whispers against full lips.

“So very fucked up but totally okay,” Sam whispers back.

And Dean knows it’s real. It’s them and it’s real.

The end.


End file.
